


partial loss of agency

by Dorminchu



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Dissociation, Gen, I guess I just like to watch these characters spin around in circles, Introspection, Lack of Communication, Not very shippy either, Self-Denial, Suspense, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Emotional Tension, inspired loosely by the social network OST, is this how Sam Esmail feels when he writes a new episode?, it's more like Estranged Friendships, possibly schizophrenia?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:30:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: A series of vignettes within Season 3, starting in Angela's apartment (though not necessarily when Elliot wakes up) and leading up to the point where Elliot takes the job at E-Corp.





	partial loss of agency

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Takes place somewhere between **eps3.0_power-saver-mode.h** and **eps3.1_undo.gz**. Chapter title(s) cribbed from **The Social Network** OST by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross.
> 
> The rating may change, but don't expect anything _too_ outlandish. Feedback is always appreciated!

Later, having confined herself in her bedroom after Elliot opted to take the couch without hesitation, Angela is still restless.

By now she has changed out of work attire into pajamas, with a weariness unbecoming of her own nature.

Without windows, candles are her only source of light.

The door is locked behind her, allowing no room for further emotional interference.

It's been a stressful, exhaustive six days; trying to deal with Tyrell, avoiding dad, awaiting the resurgence of Mr. Robot while simultaneously coaching herself to think and act more as Elliot's keeper than an estranged friend. She's already beginning to feel like a prisoner herself, confined in this apartment.

She could use a break from all the micro-managing, but given the details of her latest agreement, she should be getting used to this by now.

Angela reminds herself not to be resentful.

She can't ask Elliot to understand completely, just as he cannot ask her to understand the extent of his own condition. But she will continue to hold him to account, regardless of the situation.

She knows she should be running over in her head how to deal with Tyrell if he calls in yet another panic, asking to see her when he really means… Elliot, or Mr. Robot?

It's difficult to concentrate when she knows he is on the other side of the door, psychologically and physically compromised, at the mercy of whoever watches over him. Angela is not a psychiatrist. She's been in over her head for most of her adult career, a PR manager, as Irving called it, much to her distaste.

Back to the important point: Elliot has never come clean to her before in such an obvious, delicate manner. He's _never_ asked her for help in relation to his psychological issues, even when she was the only one to offer a hand.

So for the first time Angela feels—validated, emotionally—sympathetic, but only to a certain degree.

She's grown accustomed to being spurned as a general rule, and despite her own misgivings, Angela has never come away with the impression Elliot was acting out of malice or lack of appreciation for their friendship. After two decades, the scarcity of conversations are ironically meaningful. Clues in body language have come to betray something akin to a profound and deep-set frustration with himself. Angela hesitates to call it selflessness when it borders on martyrdom.

She glances over at the bed, ready-made. Sleep should come easily after such a harrowing day, yet when her head hits the pillow she remains wide-awake, anxious. Is this what life is like for Elliot?

Darlene has not tried to contact either of them yet, and the fact that Elliot has not vouched for his sister whatsoever gives Angela momentary pause.

But then, he would have good reason to be wary of someone else with his tech capabilities—it stings to entertain the notion—presenting a new and insidious advantage that she's not quite ready to accept, let alone stomach. Probably just indicative of his dangerous inclination toward selflessness, as covered before.

She tries rolling over but her mind refuses to settle down.

It stands to reason that, while Elliot has never expressed the same level of callous arrogance towards her as, say, his sister, he has never been particularly expectant of her, even as a child, like he's already accepted she would give up trying to reach through to him eventually.

That kind of thinking was what ended their friendship last time, but then, that was before the Five/Nine incident, and a nightly curfew with military enforcement and maybe E-coin _would_ be worse than all of these if not for the unexpected saving grace that is Whiterose's plan.

Her problems were fairly asinine back then, when she stops to consider.

Last week is already a blur in her memory despite it seeming endless at the time; if the future continues hurtling along with such an exhilarating, terrifying level of velocity, well, she has no idea how she will console herself.

Angela sits up, scowling. She can't afford to get sidetracked.

She has addressed Elliot and his condition enough for one night. Their entire meeting on the subway could be written off as a mistake, emotions running high. It's convenient to justify his whole approach as a means of putting into action what he had felt unable to elaborate, rendered insignificant upon his departure.

But it's happening again, which bothers her profoundly. He's carried himself a little differently from the moment he first woke up on the operating bed; his last request makes her wonder if he might be more aware of his own limitations than she ever realized, which is… also concerning.

Their balance—and his own equilibrium—has been upset. But Elliot and his other self must be at odds, not communicating, at least for the foreseeable future. This encourages her.

If Angela's going to be entirely honest with herself, she should have expected some emotional development sooner than later. There was never a need to dwell before; she had Ollie, and whatever Elliot had figured out, well, _he'd_ kept it to himself, long after Shayla was confirmed dead. Pressing for details would only make him shrink further into himself, and despite his newfound vulnerability, Angela doubts he'll be open to any conversation. _Nothing unusual there._

What matters is this: someone needs to fill in the gaps, and he's leaving it up to her, no one else. Perhaps that should have worried her from the very beginning, but the fact that he's willing to trust her in spite of her ill-conceived, half-empty threat on the subway could in itself be endearing, if she looks from a certain angle. But it's nothing to become emotionally invested in from her perspective.

If it's not someone else gas-lighting him he'll do it himself.

White Rose, Irving, Tyrell, Elliot; who among these can she really call a friend? Would Elliot say the same for her if she knew about the syringe? Would he at least listen, as himself or the counterpart, if she sat him down tomorrow night and carefully explained the plan, step-by-step?

Optimistic as she might be in that regard, Angela is grounded enough to retain her doubts. She's already tried once. He was just confused, that's all. She can try again another time.

It's still a letdown, to be sure, but hasn't that sentiment always pervaded their friendship to some degree?

Angela realizes she's eyeing the door again and scoffs to herself. She won't let his inability to understand the real mission poison her own resolve. It's not even his objective to accomplish.

Back in bed, she forces herself to lie still until she feels tolerable rather than exclusively unhappy.

_You can do this. You are extraordinary. Price chose you for a reason. Irving called you because you are reliable. You can undo (almost) everything that is wrong with your life. Whiterose knows what she's doing. You can't let her down._

Talking herself to sleep in the privacy of her own head is probably not the best sign of stability, but it's not any different than those self-help videos, and who is going to judge her if she doesn't speak aloud, anyway?


End file.
